


it's five

by kindoff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Sherlock and Greg Being Soft with Each Other, Sleep, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:02:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindoff/pseuds/kindoff
Summary: "You should get up."He knew, but he tightened his grip around Sherlock's waist, pulling him closer.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Kudos: 55





	it's five

**Author's Note:**

> i love them so much they're the only thing that keeps me going at this point.

"It's five."

I know, Greg said, or rather, thought, and tightened his grip around Sherlock's waist, pulling him closer.

"Greg. It's five. You should get up."

I know, Greg thought, and realised, Sherlock was reiterating. Sherlock never reiterated. Not willingly.

He pulled Sherlock even closer, if it's even possible. Sherlock didn't complain. Even when he's practically smothered under Greg's limbs, his curls a map on the pillow, he stayed still.

"It's five. I should go."

Stop talking. Stop talking. Greg gritted his teeth, buried his head in the crook of Sherlock's neck and settled there, breathing deeply, inhaling Sherlock's scent like there's no tomorrow.

Soap. Aftershave. Cigarette—they had shared one, the night before. Pine tree. Expensive cologne. Sherlock. Sherlock. Sherlock Sherlock _Sherlock_.

Greg shuddered.

He wished there wouldn't be a tomorrow. So that he could have Sherlock all to himself until the end of the world. In all senses of words.

He's comfortable. He didn't want to move. Not when Sherlock was right here, under him, surrounding him, blurring his senses together he could barely think.

Sherlock huffed, and Greg wondered if it's out of exasperation or fondness, but he could care less.

"You're warm," he croaked out, finally. His voice was raspy. Harsh. Like he hadn't used it for years. Like he was about to cry.

Sherlock smiled. _Smiled_. That slow, small, languid smile, not the fake and disgusting one he used when interrogating a suspect or a witness. "I know."

Greg splayed her fingers, reaching for Sherlock's. Sherlock didn't pull away. Instead, he met him halfway, and intertwined their fingers together.

Lanky git.

"It's five," Sherlock whispered in his ear, warm and inviting, and with a touch of tenderness. "Go back to sleep."

Greg did.


End file.
